Not a Love Story
by bellatrixD
Summary: "You can't love me." "Who says I can't? You, Fred Weasley? You don't control how I feel." "You can't love me, you don't even know what that is." He didn't love her, not back then. Katie did not get her fairy-tale love. But did Fred? Inspired from Emeli Sande's My Kind of Love. Rated T for language
1. Katie's Kind of Love

_Can't. Stop. The. One-shots. _

_A little Fratie/non-Fratie. I was thinking of adding a second part to it with Oliver but...I don't know. I guess I need to see what people think? (hint hint)_

_Inspired from Emeli Sande's My Kind of Love. I know the song has a completely different story and interpretation to it than this but I decided to take the lyrics literally and, so, here you go._

* * *

Not a Love Story

Katie's Kind of Love

* * *

Boys buy love through cinema dates and chocolates and McDonalds.

Men buy love through champagne and roses and jewellery.

But how do females buy love?

They don't. They wear pretty clothes that make their boobs look bigger, their waist tiny, and legs long. Make up to hide their dirty imperfections, give cheekbones they don't have, colour dull skin and make dead eyes enchanting. They purchase men's love through their body, and only the ones who truly look behind all that false glamour can be consistent and candid in their love.

He didn't love her. He never had. But she always went running back like the foolish little girl she was.

The difference between Katie and the other girls was that Katie never tried. Tight clothes squeezed her organs and make up irritated her. For this reason she was never drooled after by boys, she was one of the boys, in essence, with ruffled hair, oversized jumpers and baggy sweatpants. She had never had a reason to feel as if she should change who she was for the benefit of someone else. And then came Fred Weasley.

She acknowledged him first on the night of her sorting and soon forgot about him, his face blending into all the others of the students who she did not interact with. He was a year older and none of her business as far as she was concerned. But her friends matured faster and brought her to the attention of boys and their potential. Fred Weasley was one of them, and he instantly caught her fancy.

Quidditch, she soon came to realise, was one way to get his attention. He was a beater along with his twin brother, strong even in their young age. All the other players were all older than her, other than Harry Potter, so she was stunned when she made it onto the team in her third year, the year she stood tall amidst the fear of the petrifying beast. Sweat covered and panting heavily, her new teammates all clapped her on the back, congratulating her. Fred Weasley even winked.

Her dishevelled appearance was constant from the moment she rolled out of bed and continued with her day. Quidditch practice would only worsen her tangled knots. The other girls, Angelina and Alicia, never seemed to have been touched by the rushing wind they flew in, other than their huffing and coloured cheeks. Maybe once had Angelina been slightly windswept and her Quidditch robes had flown over her head. Once. Katie hadn't noticed at first, the flawlessness. Nor the second time. Nor the third. It was only when her skilful flying and winning scores went ignored by the Weasley twin who she caught flirting and teasing with the other older girls when she came to the realisation.

Observing them on the pitch was one thing – they wore the same uniform and were easily noticeable with their planned positions. In the Great Hall their group seats were premeditated from the first few weeks of the school year: there was the popular side, the geeks, the Boy Who Lived with his friends, the sleepers, the bullies and the Quidditch team. Each Hogwarts house varied in their segregations but they still existed, informal laws amongst the students. The cliques were restricted, usually, to each year, and Katie was typically one of the sleepers, only ever approaching the older students with a query on Quidditch. This query would be something Oliver had mentioned in the last practice, so he would proceed to scold her for her lack of devotion to the team. The girls would roll their eyes and attempt to calm him only to be stopped by the Jokers.

The Jokers consisted of Lee Jordan and the Weasley twins.

"Look who's risen from the dead," George would joke, and motion to Oliver's current mood with gesticulating arms, notifying Katie as to whether she would live through his speech.

"It's our wonderful Kates," Lee would hail, bowing low until his face reached his plate and he would take a bite out of whatever was in there.

"You're disgusting," Angelina would sneer, and then smile at her. It always shocked Katie how even though she looked pretty on the Quidditch pitch, she was a vision of a model when she wasn't utterly tired from constant flying.

"Only for you, babe."

"Get laid."

"That an offer?"

"Katie," Oliver would greet with a nod to break up the banter between his friends. She was otherwise ignored by him unless she initiated the discussion.

"Hi, everyone," Katie grinned, sitting down in any available space.

"To what do we owe the pleasure of your visit today, Katie dearest?" Alicia would ask, pointedly looking at Oliver. "Something you missed from Quidditch practice _again_?"

Oliver would look up, his face fixed sternly.

"Well, I had this little…blank space on…" she stumbled. She had forgotten to think of a decent excuse from her lack of sleep and was all too aware of the crust in the corner of her left eye.

"Katie, if you want to discuss this with Oliver in peace then by all means," Lee winked.

"What? No, it's fine here," Katie said.

"No, no! If we're all ruining this by embarrassing you –"

"Don't be thick, Lee, I can ask it here. It's nothing incriminating."

"If you're sure."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Dear, Merlin, you two fight like an old married couple," George laughed.

It was then she noticed that Fred hadn't spoken up like he usually would, so she looked over and felt a foreign pain in her chest.

Angelina's hair was long and straight that day – a weave, she had mentioned before – hiding Fred's face from view as he whispered into her ear behind it. His red hair bled through the cracks of the black and his pale skin contrasted greatly with Angelina's deep brown. She saw his lips, thin and chapped, press against her neck, her ear and her cheek, and perhaps even saw his tongue slip out for a moment. Angelina was smiling almost shyly, her hand shoving Fred away centimetres before he began his pleasurable assault again, their laughter mingling in the crowd of the students.

It was that moment, Katie guessed, that she became aware of her appearance in comparison to Angelina's and Alicia's, and all the other girls who had boys fawning after them. They were neat and clean, smelled of fresh soap and flowers and expensive perfumes, their hair perfectly straight, curly, wavy, or tied back. She shuffled nervously, her loose tie weighing down on her unbuttoned, untucked shirt, her hair that resembled more of a bird's nest falling loose from its bun that pulled on her scalp, her robes that were falling off one shoulder (and were most likely inside out) because it was two sizes too big. And she had forgotten to shower that morning thinking she was late for lesson.

Never before had Katie been so embarrassed to be simply herself in public. Her body burned under the imaginary gazes she felt upon her and her hands became clammy in her lap. She wished so hard for the beast to burst into the Great Hall and petrify her to eternal sleep, anything to escape the sudden onslaught of humiliation.

"Katie!"

"What?"

The group were looking at her, waiting for a response to a question she didn't hear.

"Er, sorry, I'm – I have – I need to…"

She was out of the Great Hall before anyone realised what happened. Fred hadn't even realised Katie had been there.

Over the years Katie grew closer to the Quidditch team, growing isolated from her own friends when the importance of the Cup approached. They were practicing together more and more and often collapsed in the Gryffindor common room together, falling asleep on the sofas and chairs.

Katie often found herself owling her new friends during the breaks, updating the girls on her newest holiday adventure, informing the Jokers on suggestions as to new pranks, and baring her soul to Oliver who would no longer be with them in Hogwarts.

It had been in Oliver's last April in her fourth year when he caught Katie staring at a shirtless Fred, and although he was labelled as being a Quidditch nut oblivious to the rest of the happenings in the world, he simply played ignorant, observing in the shadows and keeping it all hidden. He kept Katie back after practice and addressed her on the matter. Her large brown eyes and small frame made her look almost frightened at having been caught out seconds after he stared down her glare, and Oliver felt an indescribable urge to hold her, protect her from the big bad world. It wasn't the kind of love in fairy-tales he felt, but more platonic.

The summers had been life changing for Katie, for she hadn't changed at all. Her time spent in front of the mirror was ridiculed by her father who insisted she was beautiful as she was and whoever could not see that was not worthy of her. Her parents encouraged her individuality and she embraced it, relishing in words she needed to hear, in endless love. She was not the type of girl who went around wiggling her arse in boys' faces just for some acknowledgment. She didn't need Fred if he didn't need her as she was.

All of that went flying out of the Astronomy Tower and into the Black Lake only to be consumed by the Giant Squid the minute the Yule Ball was announced, and Katie hung onto the small glimmer of hope that Fred would ask her, that she would be able to show him how well put together she could be. She needed that moment with him considering that there would be no Quidditch that year, no hour long practices and no excuses to see him shirtless. She needed him to see _her._

But life was cruel, and she witnessed him ask Angelina to the ball. And she felt that deep scolding pain in her chest again.

She did not attend the Yule Ball. Her friends didn't seem to care much, what with her having gone off cavorting with the Quidditch team for years, leaving them in the background of her life. She did, however, sneak a glimpse into the Great Hall on her way to the kitchen, and saw Angelina up on the stage, making the band play the music louder, pulling Fred up with her and dancing with him in every way possible: grinding in close, pushing apart and throwing limbs around, embracing sweetly, all before a huge crowd of fellow students and professors, utterly shameless. Katie wasn't that fun. She wouldn't be able to offer Fred all that he wanted from a woman. _A woman._ Katie was not a woman.

Thirty minutes after sending off an owl found Katie walking down the streets of Hogsmeade with Oliver.

Everyone knew Katie for her hot temper, always on a fuse and just waiting for a spark to blow her up. In her fifth and sixth years Fred Weasley took it upon himself to be her spark.

"You fucking shit!"

"Sorry for being a good friend!"

It was a usual occurrence and the students in the common room all groaned upon hearing the shouts from the boy's dorm, many opting to leave for the silence of the library and the courtyard regardless of the harsh winds mimicking the arguing pair.

"Why the hell are you with that sack of shit anyway?" Fred yelled. He was sat on his bed as Katie paced the floor in front of him, her hair electrified from her anger. She was always angry at Fred.

"Why the hell not!" she threw her hands up and her finger pushed into Fred's forehead. "It's none of your concern who I choose to kiss. You had no reason to embarrass him _or me_ in front of everyone."

"Well then you shouldn't have been humping him in front of everyone."

"I was not humping him! We were kissing!"

"You were in his fucking lap! He was thrusting up into you. Or are you too stupid to know what humping is?"

"I'm stupid? Look at you Mr I-only-got-three-O.W.L.s."

"Grow up, Katie, I told you that doesn't bother me."

"Don't tell me to grow up, Fred Weasley."

"I wouldn't have to tell you if you weren't such a fucking thick little twit. Just like you and Oliver. What – some older boy even looks at you and jump them? Real classy, Katie."

Katie hit him then. Everyone knew how much Katie hated being subjugated because of her age compared to her friends, and Fred knew that, too. He pushed her buttons.

"At least I didn't get cheated on because I wasn't good enough," she spat.

Turning on her heel, she stormed out of his room and out of the common room, following her feet as he head swarmed in a cloud of red rage, blinding herself to her harshness.

The kitchen, that was where her feet always led her, and with the comfort food always brought, clarity came to mind and she felt hollow, as if no food was consumed at all, and she regretted every single word she uttered to Fred. She hadn't really cared about Fred sneaking her…boyfriend? Whatever he was, a Nosebleed Nougat. She didn't care that her shirt and robe were covered in blood, she didn't care that many students had witnessed it. In fact, she savoured the few moments she caught Fred's attention, that he was focussed wholly on her and even involved her in one of his pranks. But she always had to ruin it with her hot head. She couldn't even understand why she started shouting at him – perhaps to engage in a conversation of some sorts. Recently, she had nothing to say to him, no Quidditch to fuel their discussions.

Katie did not wear her heart on her sleeve. She smothered it until she could hardly distinguish it between her head. Fred monopolised her when she was so vulnerable in her rage, he led their arguments and she always took it a step further. It was all to protect herself, she told herself, confused as to whether it was her head or heart.

She apologised. He apologised. They were alright again. She always went back for him, her odd love that no one could rival.

As always with darkness and hate comes light and love. They had their good moments where the fuse blew out and halted for however long.

"Why did you have to cut your hair?" Katie asked one afternoon. They – the Quidditch team – were lounging around the Black Lake, soaking up the sun and breeze.

"Mum forced us to," Fred smiled at her fingers running through his short strands. "Angie says she likes it like this."

"I preferred it long."

"I dunno, you know, it's kind of growing on me."

"It's not growing at all."

He peeped open against the sun glare behind her head. "That was a terrible joke," he shut his eye again. "We haven't rubbed off on you at all, have we?"

"It was better long," Katie tugged on his hair.

"Ow!"

"That wouldn't have happened if your hair was still long."

"Bitch. Stop hating."

"The truth won't always make you happy."

The truth did actually make him very happy. He liked his hair long as well, just like his eldest brother, Bill. But Katie hated hearing the truth.

They were reunited in the Order of the Phoenix after they burst out of Hogwarts and flew off into the sunset, free of the senseless restrictions imposed by the Ministry. It was at Grimmauld Place, late at night when Moody escorted Katie there, her eyes dull and lifeless. The twins were overjoyed to see her but she ignored them and locked herself in her designated room. It went on for days and the news of her parents' death came from Molly Weasley. They broke the privacy she insisted on and apparated into her room.

In a weird way it pulled them together. There was no Angelina or Alicia in the Order at that time, and Lee very rarely came to the headquarters. So, the three of them supported each other, through the panics, the deaths, George's ear.

And then the war.

Katie had not seen either of them since they had split up after being told their positions. But before they had left, she saw a glimpse of Fred and Angelina. She turned away before her heart shattered before getting the chance of going limp from green.

As she battled against death eaters and creatures' intent on killing her, her mind focussed elsewhere: on a conversation she had had with Fred in Grimmauld Place. It made her angry and determined to win the war.

"Katie," Fred said, his voice low in the darkness.

"Hm?"

"How you holding up?"

She shrugged in response.

"Katie."

"What?"

"You can't love me."

Katie sat up, blinking until his figure cleared.

"You can't love me, Kates," he repeated.

"Where did…what…?"

"A few years now, I guess. Oliver mentioned something about it one night. You know how soppy he gets when he's piss drunk."

His attempt to lighten the mood did nothing.

"You can't love me."

She got angry.

"Why not? Who says I can't? You, Fred Weasley? You don't control how I feel."

Her stubbornness always made him retaliate.

"You _can't_ love me, you don't even know what that is."

The pain in her chest almost killed her when she came to the realisation that he didn't love her back, couldn't love her back, wouldn't even try, as far as she was concerned. Her love was pointless, and she couldn't distinguish whether it was her head or heart that was telling her to give up, that it was futile all along, it was best to walk aimlessly through the active corridors with people dying at every corner. Perhaps she would be one of them. Maybe she would have been better off.

But it was Katie's love, and her love never faltered.

She was there when Fred woke up from coma, four months after the war.

She was there when Fred pushed everyone's sympathy and pity away, forever stubborn in not letting him have his way in spite of his shouting and cursing.

She was there when Fred learned to walk again, making him collapse when she jumped on him.

She had been there when he was able to go back to the shop.

She had been there when Angelina had not, through all of his ups and downs. It was the kind of love she had always offered him, a friend, a duelling partner, a sponge, her kind of love.

And she had been there when Fred and Angelina got married.


	2. Fred's Kind of Love

_Two-shot now! Sorry, Ellie, I know you wanted happy but...ENJOY_

* * *

Not a Love Story

Fred's Kind of Love

* * *

Fred was happy.

Not many people were blessed with such a beautiful partner, a successful and fun career, a loving family and a popular life. Fred was one of the lucky ones.

He had Angelina, his beauty, his love, his childhood sweetheart beside him always. He woke up to her light snoring and naked skin and went to bed with her warmth cuddled to his side, her eyes blazing with their limitless passion, identical pools of liquid chocolate. Their life together was bliss. They argued, of course they did; they were a real couple in the real world. Life wasn't a fairy-tale. But with the spiral down came the climb up, a venture Fred didn't mind to exert himself on. The makeup sex always had been mind-blowing. Molly had once commented that they were ingredients to a cake: Fred the eggs, messy and difficult to remove once it got hold of you, and Angelina the baking powder, forever uplifting. Separated, they were foul and useless. Mix them together with some flour, sugar, vanilla and chocolate chips, you got the most beautiful treat.

It was an odd analogy, one he never truly appreciated. But that was Molly Weasley for you.

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes was a joy to behold every day, the pleasure and pride indescribable at making others smile. It was his and George's first child, and it was only naturally they shared it as they did with most other things. Never before had Fred been truly dedicated or hardworking to the extent of sleepless nights and empty stomachs that lasted hours. It had been a trek, a thousand mile hike to get it to where it was today, and he was bloody proud. It helped that he worked as a professional prankster, a title he had held from birth, as opposed to conforming to his parents' wishes in becoming a worker for the Ministry. That never sat well with him.

And then there was his family. The Weasley's and Johnson's were constant figures in his life, aiding him through any troubles, encouraging him, supporting him. His siblings, his in-laws, nieces and nephews always made sure there was light in his life. New adventures, new Firsts, new surprises. He had it all.

But amongst all the New's and the future there was a hole from the Old's.

One particular Old.

It had never been a conspicuous hole. He couldn't even tell you when it appeared. He had no idea his perfect life could manage a hole. Time; that would cure the hole, the hole smaller than the eye in a needle. That was the only solution Fred could come up with. Nothing else filled it. And eventually, he realised, neither could time.

Years passed without any knowledge of the hole. It couldn't have been such a bad thing, then, if he had lasted so long unaware. But it was comparable to a black hole. It ate away everything meaningful, everything natural. Fred found himself wearing a mask, putting up a front in an attempt to maintain his smile that would naturally form at his perfect life.

But he couldn't understand why.

Let's run back to when it hurt, the exact moment the hole throbbed, alerting Fred to its existence.

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Where else would such an eventful thing happen to a Weasley twin? It was where they proposed to their significant others, where they notified their families, customers and the whole of the wizarding world to their blossoming families, where Alicia had given birth, being too weak to leave the bed and get to St Mungos.

None of that is in anyway relevant to this, so let's continue to the story of the hole.

George. Fred. Lee. Alicia. Katie. Angelina.

That was their group. Since their days at Hogwarts they were always together, always included in each other's lives. They met on their very first day at Hogwarts and became friends instantly. They maintained their tight friendship through every obstacle, the arguments, the stealing of dibbed boyfriends and girlfriends, and the war.

All except Katie.

(Even now the hole is hurting simply by thinking of it)

She wasn't part of their initial group. She had joined some time later over the years. No one knew how, but she became integral to their group in spite of being in the year below them all. It wasn't her age that was an issue – she was born in the same year as the twins but several months later that ensured her acceptance into the year beneath – and yet Fred always made a big deal of it. Even he wasn't sure why. He suspected it was because nothing else could get her so riled up, so red in the face and magnified by anger. Pride filled him at eliciting such a rare reaction from the little spitfire. So, he continued.

It would be wrong to assume that Fred was ignorant to her stares when she thought he was too occupied to notice, or when she managed to grab a seat beside him wherever they were, regardless of how close the other person was (several times she had squeezed between him and someone else). What is not wrong to assume, however, is how he played on her feelings.

(The hole is slowly being to burn at the edges Molten fire is the only thing he knows that can fill it)

Her lap became his pillow, her fingers his comb and her hair playthings. Nothing he did seemed selfish at the time, he excused it as a resolve to his boredom.

Angelina had always been his mind's focus. She was beautiful beyond imagination, perfect in every sense, Fred's glove. They fit in such a way that Fred had never – could never – consider anyone else.

This story has somehow digressed again. But this back story is significant. So be patient. We'll return to the Wheezes shortly.

It had always been Angelina. Always.

No guilt ate him for Katie missing the Yule Ball. That was her own fault for turning everyone who asked her down. Her own fault for being stubborn and selfish, waiting only for Fred. There was no guilt when he gave her a celebratory kiss after they won that Quidditch match in his final year, that had purely been instinctive, the need to release his euphoria. It was by coincidence that she was the closest female.

(No guilt back then but it flooded him now The world's weight dropping in the bottomless hole)

The only way he could explain his anger at her public displays of affection with her numerous boyfriends in the following years could only be that of a protective older brother. It was always the same excuse: "He's a man whore"; "I'm looking out for you"; "You can do loads better."

Those were what he heard in his head anyway. What actually came out was bitter rage. And she never failed in returning it. That fire he loved evoking so much. And it was only ever him.

It was after seeing her so lifeless and hollow in Grimmauld Place that he confronted her. The timing could have been better, Fred admits that, but he needed it off his chest. You see, he had been toying with the idea of proposing to Angelina since before he had left Hogwarts. War was no longer on the horizon, it was on their doorstep, and he wanted no regrets were he to die. But he needed Katie to move on.

How stupid Young Fred was.

She fought back like she always did, his words giving her the fight she needed to live for.

Eventually, she stepped back. And Fred was happy.

For those of you who have been reading attentively you may have come to the conclusion that Fred didn't propose before the war. You are right, he didn't. Because soon after the war came, and the concern of staying alive weighed more than that of marriage.

Fred can't remember much about the abyss he lived in during his coma. He heard garbled words and echoing cries, but their identities were faceless, all converging into pitches, not distinct voices.

And there, when he opened his eyes, saw Katie beside his George.

(The hole, if it could, would be weeping Recalling her tears, the only time he ever saw such a scene, could make Death pause)

She had taken a step back, but that was all that it had been, a measly step. Until he married Angelina.

Katie was one of the first to be added to the wedding list, her invitation being verbal and her involvement crucial to the bride. She smiled through it all, danced and then…left.

It wasn't what Fred wanted, but it had happened.

This is where he believes the hole to have emerged from, but he can't be sure. He didn't notice it until he saw her again years later.

And here we are, back to Wheezes. Where else would he see her again? It was where everything happened.

Fred was behind the counter, a large crowd of children and parents between him and the entrance, and yet, something inside made him look up out the window. There was the tiniest gap where he could see out, and he couldn't miss the familiar head of messy hair, the messiest he'd ever known.

He didn't see her face, he didn't need to. A laugh burst forth, bubbling from his stomach and filling the noisy shop.

(The hole is heating, it's beginning to burn and he knows what is coming)

The notion to run out the shop was pushed away as she stepped in, saving him from leaving a queue that would have no doubt seethed if they had to wait to pay for their products and leave.

Beautiful was not a beautiful enough adjective to describe her.

No longer was her face blemished, although there permanent, slightly faded scars took their place. She was glowing, or was that the effect of her smile, the kind of smile he had never seen on her? It was Old Katie with New Smile. And it looked good. Radiant. Glorious.

The hole is coming.

Katie was still Katie, just matured in her appearance (not the hair, never the hair). Her eyes shone, the same shade of green, only brighter and more alive. Her face was angular and cheekbones poked through the skin with her smile, revealing her slightly crooked teeth. Fred had once mocked her for her teeth, the name lost in the book of past conflicts, but it had only been uttered once, for she had kicked him where no man ever cared to be kicked.

His dick throbbed just from the vague memory.

Ignoring the customers in front of him, he made to jump over the counter, the damn thing blocking him from an otherwise easy path to her.

Lips pressed into her cheek.

(The hole is on fire Agony is coursing through him)

Fred knows the owner of those lips. He had been invited to have drinks with him just the other night along with George and Lee. In fact, he was an addition to their group of friends, yet he was an odd one too, like Katie. He was older instead of younger, and calm, not feisty. He didn't get into fights, rather he diffused them or stayed out altogether. Unlike Katie, he didn't spend all of his time with them, realising the necessity to stick with people his own age, keep his own friends.

It all clicked now. Every time they met up with him he would always shy away from the questions pertaining to his relationship status. Before it was "uncertain," then, "unrequited," eventually moving onto, "girlfriend." It went through all the stages of a relationship, and the last Fred had heard it was, "love."

(Hot fire Too hot The edges of the hole are bubbling from the heat)

"How do we know she's real?" George had teased. They never heard a name, or an age, or a Hogwarts House, or anything specific. The only information they were enclosed with was that she was younger, gorgeous, and an old friend. They had assumed it was a friend from his hometown in Scotland. Katie never crossed their minds.

"You sure she's a she?" Lee questioned. "You don't have to cover up if she's, you know, a he. We're cool with that."

He chuckled and shook his head. "Yeh'll get teh meet her soon, don' worry lads," he had said.

"How soon? I need to plan a holiday if there're any wedding bells coming," Fred said.

"I'll surprise yeh's," was all he replied with, and it had been the end of the conversation.

And boy was Fred surprised.

Three words during Fred's time at Hogwarts, three words that girls always used to describe Oliver Wood. Tall, dark and handsome. The Scottish babe, Quidditch enthusiast (Fred and George had claimed that Oliver put the 'nut' in 'enthusiast', only it wasn't in order of letters because he was too busy blocking Quaffles) and nice boy.

And there he was, holding Katie to him from behind, nuzzling her neck and kissing her skin.

(The hole hurts How can something empty hurt so bad)

From over her shoulder Oliver spotted him, and, whispering into her ear, his mouth unnecessarily nipping the lobe, directed them over to him, his arms unyielding.

"Weasley!" he called, typically not being able to tell the difference even though George had a lopsided head. Fred always thought Oliver was thick.

(A sting for the lie in his head Fred always respected Oliver, thought he was secretly smart The hole is angry at Fred)

"Wood," he managed to mumble, his mouth suddenly dry.

Her eyes met his. And she _smiled._

Colours, patterns and symbols. Fred and Katie. Katie and Fred. They were a kaleidoscope, constantly dancing, morphing and changing in response to the other. Without one there was stillness. Nothing. Boring.

Hot and cold circling. A tornado at the worst of times, one always trying to best the other. In Fred's opinion, she always won, whether she realised it or not. The hole agreed with him.

His ears stopped functioning, the effect of water swimming in them taking over. Oliver's mouth moved, an introduction to his girlfriend. Or did he just say fiancé? Fred was clueless. He couldn't stop looking at Katie and her New Smile.

Apparently (he can't remember his action from those moments), he invited them around for dinner once George arrived to greet them. He didn't know this until he opened his door to see them both there. George was there with Alicia and his three children, Lee and Verity with their child, and then Fred and Angelina with her bump. If you asked Fred to tell you one thing he remembers from that evening, he would mention the food, and that was only because he had burnt it, Angelina cried, and he had to order something else. Everything else was Katie and Oliver. More Katie than Oliver.

But he remembered them leaving. He helped Katie put her robe on as Angelina was showing Oliver he yearbook, him being in the Quidditch team photos. She reminisced a lot during her pregnancy.

"Are you happy?" he whispered.

She visibly shivered from his breath. They were facing each other and Fred saw her eyes shift behind him. Without thinking, he followed her gaze: Oliver. He didn't look at him long. His spitfire was there and he didn't want to miss a second of her.

"Yes," she replied, equally quiet, her New Smile fixed on her lips. She met his eyes again. "I don't love you, Fred."

(The hole is killing him, he's sure of it Death is painful)

"No, that's a lie. I do. I can't stop. But…but…"

He never found out what 'but' was, because Oliver came over, kissed her soundly, and together they left, their neat wedding invitation sitting on the table.

Fred was happy. Of course he was. Why wouldn't he be?


End file.
